He hurt me
by itsnnoah
Summary: Nikolai brushes them away carefully and moves closer to Alina, squatting in front of her; she thinks he's going to kiss her, and maybe she wants to—the last time they kissed, they were in war, so long ago—but all he does is cup her cheek with his hand. She wants to draw back, she wants to lean in. Nikolai brushes her scar with his thumb, carefully. "Does it hurt?" he asks.


The thing about love is, you never expect it. When you realise it's there, it's too late to step back. If you are lucky, someone will catch you before you reach rock bottom. I you are not, the consequences will be catastrophic.

Alina Starkov knows this too damn well.

For the past fifteen minutes she's been wondering around the domed hall, trying to escape Mal, who has drunk too much _kvas_ and doesn't know to accept a _no_ for an answer. She keeps hearing his voice over and over again, calling for her, pleading a chance to explain himself. "Alina, please," he yells, while Alina tries to find the escape around a maze of people. "Alina, slow down! Stop for a second!" She's suffocating, there's too much people. "Alina!"

"Leave me alone!" she yells back, hoping he heard her. But she can still hear his voice, and it's driving her mad. _Stop, Alina, stop. Give me a chance. Only a second. Have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten us?_

Is this the boy she loved so much once? She can't believe it, Mal wasn't like this. Alina remembers all the kisses, the laughs and the hugs and she doesn't picture him. She doesn't know, but this Mal is not the same that held her so close after the encounter with the Darkling. She can't believe it.

But it still hurts. It hurts seeing another girl in this new Mal's arms. Would he whisper how much he loves her in her ear the same way he whispered it to Alina? Would he kiss her with the same passion, the same desire? She's not jealous, of course not. She can't be because, after all, she was the one who said she didn't want what they had anymore. But how can she stand the pain he causes her? How can she stand him kissing her, softly at first, hard when he knows she isn't going away? How can she stand him lifting the skirt of her dress and then, suddenly, seeing him kissing another girl the same way?

Alina can't.

And she knows that the worst thing is that she let herself think that, after that kiss, it was going to be the same. Alina let herself divagate over what would happen after that, and she thought that, maybe, it was going to be okay between them again. How fool of her, thinking that way.

But she still can't forget the feeling she had when Mal kissed the crook of her neck, or when he used to call her beautiful in the morning, when she was all of things but. Alina still can't forget how good it felt when he talked about the future. "You know what?" he used to say when all the kids of the orphanage had fallen asleep, when they were the only two people awake in the entire house. "With you, I want more than ten children. I want thousands. You hear me? Thousands!" Then he would hug her so tightly she forgot what it was to live in the shadows.

She can't believe that all of that is just in the past.

Alina remembers as if it were yesterday when it all started to change, and it pains her that it was, maybe, because of jealousy. When she started visiting Nikolai more often, to cure his wounds, to help him when he couldn't help himself. Sometimes, he still can't. Alina saw the darkness he borne and it surprised her every time she witnessed how he fell in front of her. "I can't do this anymore," he cried, "please, I want it to end." Alina doesn't remember a time in which she has felt sadder. Seeing Nikolai cry is like seeing a puppy die.

So she went again and again to the Grand Palace, trying to comfort him, to make him realise that it isn't bad to show a bad side once or twice. Alina liked to help him. And, she has to admit, she didn't always go because she wanted to see his wounds; there were days in which Nikolai was his best self, the Nikolai she once loved as a friend. He joked and told her stories until she felt asleep and he had to take her to her rooms. One time, she pretended to fall asleep beside him, her head on his lap, just to see what would he do. Nikolai stroked her hair until he fell asleep, too.

The following morning, when she woke up, he had awoken long before and was eyeing her cautiously. But there was something sweet in his blue eyes, something she hadn't seen before. He smiled a little smile and whispered, "I think Mal is wrong for you."

When she left, furious, Nikolai shouted behind her equally angry, "If he's so good, then why did you sleep with me?"

Alina didn't tell Mal anything, but words must have spread through all of Ravka, and the people misunderstood it. Because, one day when Alina came back from the market, Mal yelled at her the loudest he had ever yelled. "Did you visit Nikolai just so you could get tangled in his sheets? Eh? What, Alina? Don't you have anything to say?" He didn't even let her time to process what was happening before he tore away the bag she was carrying, then the hairpin Zoya had gifted her. "He showered you in presents, too? Oh, come now. Did he gave you that dress, too?" Mal picked the hem of her dress and pulled and pulled and pulled. It didn't matter the tears Alina was shedding or the cries or the shouts of the teachers, asking what was happening behind the locked door. Mal didn't stop until she was on the floor and the dress was just a pile of fabric pilled before her. And then, the unthinkable. He said, "I'm so sick of you, Alina. You're not the Sun Summoner any longer, stop acting like a saint." When he was done, Alina opened her mouth full of fear to defend herself, but Mal turned to her again and slapped her so hard she thought she was going to pass out.

The only thing she could do was pack her few belongings, take Misha with her and fly away as fast as her feet permitted her. When she arrived to the Grand Palace, she threw her arms around Nikolai's neck and whispered into his ears, "You were right, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," while her tears rolled down her cheeks.

Thinking about it now makes her knees weak. She felt so humiliated, so betrayed; Mal came the next day pleading her to listen to him, saying how sorry he was, but if Alina knows something too well, it is that love is a funny thing and, if you do something once, you can do it again.

It doesn't mean she doesn't regret it, though. She knows she should be grateful that Mal showed her his true self before she got pregnant, because then Alina wouldn't have known what to do; she wants to believe that she is safe now, but she feels everything but. She denied to tell Nikolai what Mal had done, because Alina knew he would get angry and it scared her what would happen to Mal. So she didn't say anything, but Nikolai knew. He _knows_ something happened, but he doesn't press her like she doesn't press him. They are a good team.

The six months she lived in the Grand Palace were great; she didn't have to worry about Mal hitting her ever again, and she had everything she could have wished for—it wasn't the best thing, actually, because she knew that some of the residents treated the servants like slaves, but Alina always tried to be her best self around them. It ashamed her to say it, but the best things of those months were the nights she slept beside Nikolai; she never tired of his stories, and he treated Misha like if he was his own son—which, okay, was kind of adorable—and Alina regretted the day in which she decided to go live with Mal instead of stay and be _tsaritsa_.

And then the fete started and Mal showed up and everything Alina had achieved went to hell.

While she pass corridor after corridor, hall after hall, she tries to stay calm, to breathe like that woman near Keramzin taught her to when she is nervous or sad or anxious. It helps a little to contain the tears, and Alina can't go fast enough. When she spots a servant, they make curtsies and Alina smiles and, once they are gone, Alina can hear them calling her _tsaritsa_ , though she is nothing close to that term.

As she grows more anxious, her room seems to be farther; Nikolai didn't want her to sleep on the Darkling's chambers no more, so he changed her room to the Grand Palace, near his. _One foot in front of the other,_ she reminds herself. _Mal doesn't even know that you're living in the Grand Palace, don't worry. You are almost there._

It is _Mal_ she's escaping from. She shouldn't be feeling like this.

And finally, _finally_ , she reaches her chambers and opens the door, only to find someone sat on the chair beside the fireplace. A sob that has been wanting to escape sets itself free at last, and the person sitting there turns around, making Alina put her hands over her mouth to cover the sobs, since they are growing louder. It's not because they were imprisoned inside her, but because for one moment, she had thought that it was Mal there. She knows he can't be there; the servants wouldn't let him, and he doesn't know where her chambers are, _he doesn't know, he doesn't know._

Mal has scared her for life.

"Alina?" Nikolai softly whispers, worry in his voice. He stands up, reaching for her with his hand, but she ignores him, though she notices that he isn't wearing his gloves; he doesn't when he is around her, but it still is weird.

As if he weren't there, Alina sits in front of her vanity and starts taking hair pins from the elegant hairstyle Genya did this evening, trying to focus on this task and not on the memory of Mal tearing them away. Tears are falling, as if they were oblivious of Nikolai's presence, but Alina doesn't lower her chin as she picks up the brush and starts combing her white hair, all without looking at herself in the mirror.

Mal's voice ricochets on the walls, _Have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten us?_

Her sobs grow even louder and she can't hold it anymore, she looks at herself in the mirror. It takes all of her to not look away from the broken girl staring back at her. _Who's that girl? Not me._ Her white hair has grown even whiter, and her skin is paler; she has bags under her eyes, which have lost all their glitter. And _the_ _mark_. When Mal slapped her, his ring scarred her cheek, leaving a pale white mark; all of her is white but her soul, which feels blacker than it had felt yesterday.

"Alina," Nikolai says again, this time a little louder, but Alina can't meet his eyes, not for a second, because she knows that she's going to tell him everything. Not because it's him—although it has something to do with it—but because she can't keep it to herself anymore. It's just too much, more than she can bear. "Alina, talk to me."

His tone is serious, and she can't help but say, "Don't talk to me like this. Don't talk to me like I'm a child who needs a lesson."

He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before, his blonde strands falling over his eyes. Nikolai brushes them away carefully and moves closer to Alina, squatting in front of her; she thinks he's going to kiss her, and maybe she wants to—the last time they kissed, they were in war, so long ago—but all he does is cup her cheek with his hand. She wants to draw back, she wants to lean in. Nikolai brushes her scar with his thumb, carefully. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

Alina shakes her head and then starts crying again. When she visited him, it was always Nikolai who talked, who cried; Alina was always there to comfort him, but she never imagined that they would change their roles. He had trusted her, why wouldn't she trust him? Alina starts to wonder if her tears would ever stop when Nikolai's hand leaves her cheek and he kisses both of them instead. His lips, soft and warm over her skin send tingles of electricity over her body, and Alina shivers. She cups Nikolai's cheeks with both of her hands and attracts him closer, closer, until there is nothing but air between them; his breath is warm against her, and Alina feels one of her hands on her neck, the other on her ribs. The pound of her heart is ricocheting against the walls of the room, and she is afraid that Nikolai will laugh when he hears it. But he doesn't, or he doesn't care.

When he brushes his lips over hers, fresh tears leak over her eyes, but she doesn't care, because as their lips open, Alina feels like she is floating. She didn't feel this when Mal kissed her, not even when the Darkling did. Nikolai whispers something against her lips, and although Alina doesn't understand it, she catches it with her tongue and whispers something back. And suddenly it strikes her: she can't kiss him without Nikolai knowing what happened. She can't do that to him, because, what would it make her? So Alina waits until his lips brush hers another time to stop it, and she hugs him; she hides her head in the crook of his neck and her arms round his back, just the same as his.

Carefully, Nikolai lifts her from the chair and, like a child, Alina encircles her legs around his waist. She doesn't know where he's taking her or what he's pretending to do, but Alina is not worried. How could she be, being at his side, knowing he would protect her against anything?

He leaves her on the bed and without a word, starts taking off her shoes. Alina can do nothing but to stare at his long fingers twisting and pulling and when one shoe is off, he goes to the other. Is a simple gesture, she knows it, but so lovingly at the same time. When he's done, Nikolai climbs onto the bed and sits beside her, taking her hand in his. He rubs it with his thumb, and Alina closes her eyes, letting the words slip from her tongue, pretending that things are going to be okay between them after she's told him every single words.

Alina doesn't dare looking at him while she talks, but when he tells him how Mal slapped her, how he tore apart her dress, she knows that Nikolai frowns, since his thumb stops rubbing her hand. But she's not crying anymore, because there are no more tears to shed, she's done with that for now. And, as much as it pains her to think about this possibility, if Nikolai looks at her differently now or isn't the same with her, she will have to be strong about it and accept it. If after this Nikolai doesn't want her anymore, Alina knows that she'll leave. She doesn't know where, but she knows that she'll leave and don't look back.

When she's finished, she decided to steal a glance at Nikolai, who has his brows furrowed. He seems to be thinking of a response, the right thing to say, but Alina doesn't exactly wants Nikolai saying the right thing; she wants Nikolai saying _things_. At least now he's caressing her hand again. "What are you thinking?" she murmurs.

Nikolai shakes his head, as if awakening from a trance. "He hurt you? Mal really hit you?"

This she was not expecting him to say, but she answers anyway, "He said he was sorry, that he didn't mean to—"

"Alina…" he interrupts, "that wasn't what I was asking you."

"He hurt me," she says, and it doesn't matter that her voice is broken or that she is shaking, it just feels so _good_ to say it out loud that a burble of laugher escapes her lips. Nikolai looks at her like if she had just turned green, but a smile is making its way to his lips, too. "No one knows this."

"You should have told me," he says, and his voice is serious again, but Alina can't blame him. She would be serious if someone had hurt him. "I can't let him come here as if nothing happened when _everything_ happened. I have to do something, even if he said how sorry he was."

"I know."

"You can't deal with it like it's anything. And even if you hate me because—"

"Nikolai, I understand."

"No, no, let me finish." He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. Alina blushes. "As I was saying, even if you hate me if I imprison him because you still love him, I—"

"I don't love him anymore," she whispers, afraid of his reaction.

"—will know I did the right thing," Nikolai finishes, and there is surprise in his face he disguises quickly with a smirk, but Alina is very capable to see that she has destabilized him. "You don't?" he asks.

"I don't," she answers. This time, she holds Nikolai's hand, brushing her fingers against his own, touching he marks The Darkling gave him. She's told him a thousand times not to hide them, but Alina knows that he's all image, perfection. _What would people say?_ he'd ask, and at that point she has usually given up.

He gestures at her lap. "May I?" Alina doesn't have an idea of what he's going to do, but she nods anyway. Whatever he's going to do can't be that bad, can it?

She lets go of his hands as Nikolai rights himself and grins, and it takes just a second for Alina to guess what he's going to do. She bursts a bark of laugher when Nikolai, the _King_ , sits on her lap. "That laugh is not very ladylike, you know?"

"Oh because sitting on lady's laps is very King-like, right?" she shoots back, and she can't say if Nikolai is pleased with her response or not, but she doesn't care, because he's touching the scar on her cheek right now and she feels like she's flying.

"Did he do this to you?" he asks, and Alina slowly nods. Nikolai kisses the scar, and she wonders if she should feel this way, when she was crying herself out just half an hour before because Mal wanted her and then wanted another girl. Alina wonders if it is right to want to kiss Nikolai again and again and again until their lips are swollen and bleeding and they can't breathe.

She let her hands lay in the back of his neck, twisting his blonde hair. It's too long, but he wears it so well she doesn't care seeing him like this every day for the rest of her life. Nikolai catches a strand of her hair, too, and twists it on his finger as well; when he's done, he kisses it and then, in a flash, his lips are over hers.

This is not like the kiss he gave her when they were coming to Os Alta or the kiss they shared on the Spinning Wheel or the brush of lips before. This kiss is hungrier, more like a necessity than a kiss of pleasure, and Alina finds herself wanting more and more. "Alina," Nikolai whispers, and she instantly knows that he feels the same, so she deepens the kiss, letting him know that _yes, yes, I understand you._

When he proposed, ages ago, Alina couldn't think of him as more than a friend. Nikolai Lantsov could never like a simple peasant like her, let alone marry one. So she wrapped herself around memories of Mal and her and let Nikolai apart, wishing for him to desist. Alina thought that he only wanted her because she was the powerful Sun Summoner, _Sankta_ Alina, and it would be convenient to have her as his Queen. The day she lost her powers, she started to fear that Nikolai wouldn't want to be seen with her again, because how dare she, a commoner, talk to the _tsar_? It was beyond disrespectful. Beyond imaginable. But he still wanted to pace with her around the halls, he still visited her on the orphanage and she still visited him on the Grand Palace. Alina asked one time why did he still liked her, and Nikolai just snorted and answered, "Because you are still you, of course. With sunbeams or without them, you are still as charming as ever."

Was he always the one? Alina still remembers the time when he gifted her with the green emerald; she said she didn't want it, that she didn't deserve it anymore, and Nikolai made a fuss and ignored her.

Alina doesn't know how much time they've been kissing, and doesn't exactly know how, but she's now sitting in Nikolai's lap and he's fidgeting with the buttons at the back of her dress; he doesn't have his shirt on. Her lips feel swollen and might be bleeding and she's definitely out of breath, but she doesn't want to stop kissing him. Well, if he kisses her neck, she can stop herself to _feel_. But only for a few seconds.

"Damn this dress," he says, giving up and resting her forehead on her collarbone. Alina giggles and unbuttons it herself, leaving Nikolai's mouth hanging open. "You knew how to do that and didn't help me? I've been trying to get rid of this thing, like, for two years." Until now, Alina hadn't noticed the flush covering his cheeks; if he is like this, she doesn't want to imagine how is she looking. "Are you totally sure?" he asks, and Alina's blush deepens with his words.

Is she? The only person she has ever shared a bed with is Mal, and she's known him her whole life. Nikolai has been in her life for years now, and Alina can't help but wonder if she's about to make a mistake or the best decision of her life.

"I know that grin," Nikolai murmurs, grinning himself. Alina hadn't even realised that she was grinning until now, and it gets bigger when she answers, "Yes."

She wants to do it, but it doesn't mean that she isn't nervous, so when Nikolai holds her hand and kisses it again, she looks at him and tries to catch everything she can. His blue eyes, bluer with lust and desire and flushed cheeks and his wide grin. His tanned skin and the blonde of his hair shine, and his happiness seems to cover the entire room, even her heart. Nikolai Lantsov is not only handsome, but beautiful, and Alina can't keep herself from smiling.

"Are you regretting this or are you just happy to see me from this distance, so close?" Nikolai says, and Alina laughs. "Well, well, I suppose I'm even more attractive without a shirt."

Alina rolls her eyes. "I thought you were brawnier."

"Ouch." He lows the sleeve of her dress and kisses her shoulder. "You can make me stop whenever."

"I know," she says.

"Just don't let me mess this."

"What?"

" _This_." He lows the other sleeve, and Alina shivers. "I don't know what it is," he says, makings his way to her cleavage, kissing every part of her skin. "But I _love_ it."

And then her torso is discovered and Alina cannot believe the look of awe in his face even though it _is_ here. Not even Mal looked at her like that, and she has to admit that she kind of likes it, someone being awed by her; she used to think about herself as scrawny, too flat-chested, too _white_. But if someone looked at Nikolai right now, they would say that he's seeing the most perfect girl in the entire world.

It makes her feel sort of embarrassed, as well. "Don't look at me like that," she murmurs, wanting to cover herself with something.

Nikolai doesn't move when he answers, "I don't know how to look at you differently."

How come Nikolai didn't seem so perfect when he was constantly asking for her hand? She should have said yes when she had the opportunity.

"You are a total—"

Someone opened the door, and for an instant, Alina thinks it is Mal. _He doesn't know where you sleep, relax,_ a voice coos inside her head. She press her body against Nikolai's, trying to cover as much as she can, and when she looks back to see who it is, her heart stops.

It _is_ Mal.

He stand right there, his hand still grabbing the doorknob, his knuckles white. The smell of alcohol suddenly flooding the room. He can't be here, how did he find the way? Alina thought that she had lost him.

Well, apparently not.

Mal doesn't do anything, which surprises her, since he used to flinch whenever he saw her with someone else, talking, laughing, even when they were touching hands. Alina fears that he will jump into the bed and start tearing apart the blanket, tearing apart what is left of her dress of even punch Nikolai; if he does this, she knows, he will be imprisoned for the rest of his. For an instant, she wants him to throw punches, to start screaming, just so he will be gone for good.

Two minute passes and no one says anything, and it's starting to get really uncomfortable when Alina whispers into Nikolai's ear, "You are seeing him too, aren't you?" He nods, and she gains some confidence when she says to the wall in front of her, "Get out."

Nikolai looks at her, confused at first, but when he understands who she is talking to, his expression relaxes. An arm makes its way to her waist, and Alina comprehends what he is doing: protect her—trying to make Mal understand that she is not his to claim anymore. But she is not Nikolai's, either. She's hers. And she won't be chained to Mal anymore.

Louder this time, she says, "Get out."

And Mal answers, "Have you already forgotten about me? About us?"

Her voice quavers when she answers, but her response is heavy, "Yes."

Just like that, Mal leaves.

Alina doesn't move, her chest pressed against Nikolai's, his arms around her, her arms around his neck; they are both breathing heavily, and not because of the kisses, and Alina knows it. How did Mal find her chambers? Someone must have told him. And he was so drunk, how in hell did he manage to even walk straight?

"That was awkward," mutters Nikolai.

With that, all the anxiety is gone, and Alina laughs. He isn't angry or embarrassed or pissed. That's the difference between him and Mal, she realises it now. Nikolai is better, and not only talking about potential lovers, but as a person. Saints, how didn't she realise it until now?

Carefully, she jumps off the bed, leaving Nikolai there, pouting. Without shirt he _is_ sexier, yes, but no way she's going to tell him that. Instead, she steps to the wardrobe and fishes for a simple shirt and pants to sleep, trying to put some order to her thoughts; she is going to have to lock her door every night now, and maybe even ask Nikolai to put someone outside of her room, but Alina is not going to be afraid of him anymore. That is, she is going to punch him if she sees him ever again.

And then there is Nikolai, who has turned around and is now laying on his side, covering himself with the blankets. Is he going to sleep here? Alina can't keep herself from blushing, and she is thinking about some witty sentence to say when Nikolai asks, "Can I sleep with you?"

"You've already slept with me," Alina says, because she doesn't know what else is appropriate now.

He hesitates. "Yeah, but you've never been totally hypnotized by my charms like now."

"Shut up."

When Alina climbs to the bed again and rests her head on the pillow, she wants something, but she doesn't know exactly what. To him to hold her closer? To kiss her? To tell her one of his stories? It was so confusing, her heart.

Nikolai throws one arm around her and pulls her closer, closer, like he can't get enough of her, and Alina speaks before she can even think what she's going to say. "Do you still want me to be your Queen?"

Oh, Saints. _Not so fast, Alina_ , she thinks, _now he's gonna think that you're a creep._ But Nikolai's laugh is soft and warm, and Alina relaxes in his arms. At least he doesn't think she's weird—not more than usually, that is.

"You've really fallen under my spell, I see…"

"No, your ego has fallen over me. It's left me groggy, so big it is. I can't think."

"You love it."

"You seem so sure of it, it's so cute."

"You just called me cute," he says.

"And you believe it, aww." A beat. And then, Alina turns around, facing him; when he thinks she's going to kiss him, Alina punches his chest.

"What was _that_ for?"

"It's been so long since the last time I punched you," she says, a smile playing on her lips. "Besides, things were turning too cheesy."

Nikolai moans, but there's a smile on his face, always a smile; he's not as serious as before, but Alina can tell that he's still a little concerned about her, just trying to play it cool. So she'll play it cool, too.

Kissing his cheek, she says, "Not to worry, I like you better like this. You talk less."

"Oh, please. You love my chattering. It's the best thing that has happened to you in your whole life." When she's about to answer, Nikolai covers her mouth with his hand, and it doesn't matter how many times Alina licks it or tries to get away, the hand in her back is pressing her to him and the one in her mouth is strong and she doesn't have anywhere to go, so she stops moving and shaking, hoping for Nikolai to release her, but he doesn't. He just holds her there, tightly. Alina still feels his breath, this time in her face, and it smells a little like brandy. Does she smell of _kvas_? Mal did, but he had obviously drunk more than her.

She's thinking if she'll remember Nikolai of Mal because of her smells when Nikolai's hand leaves her mouth to start stroking her hair, from the top of her head to the tips of her hair. When she came to the Grand Palace, he used to do this—so serene, so peaceful—when he had something important to say to her, and Alina wonders what it will be. Maybe he wants to talk about the _kvas_? Mal discovering where she sleeps? The kisses? Maybe it's the alcohol, that is messing with her, and he's just stroking her hair, simply.

Letting herself rest against Nikolai's bare chest, Alina closes her eyes and tries to think about nothing, which is kind of difficult, but she manages to do it for about ten seconds before Nikolai's voice reverberates against her. "Alina, can I tell you something?"

"You've never let me stop you."

Two beats, and then, "I don't want you to be my Queen."

"Oh." It shouldn't hurt, but it does. Maybe Nikolai notices, because he squeezes her back like saying, _It's okay, I still want to be your friend._

"Though I still want you to be Queen."

"What?" Now she is really lost. When she looks up at him, he's blushing. Like, _really_ blushing. His face looks like a _tomato_. "Oh Saints, you are _nervous_. Why are you so nervous? You can go, if you're not comfortable."

"Wha— no, no, it's not that. I mean, I— shit. Lemme— just let me order my thoughts now. You've destabilized me." Alina stares at her for what feels like an hour before he starts talking again, this time more relaxed. "Okay, here I go. I… I want you to be Queen, just not _mine_. I mean, you'll be my wife, obviously, as I'll be you husband, but… you won't belong to me, Alina. You'll be free to flee if you realise this is not the life you wanted, I won't hold you back. You are yours before you are anyone else's, yes? You are not an object for me to toy with."

Now Alina is the one who's been destabilized.

And she can't do nothing but kiss Nikolai so hard on the lips that he's destabilized again, too, and they are both a living mess of arms and legs and hair and smiles and this is just so _surreal_. In one night, she's cried because of the boy she loved, laughed because of the boy she loves and laughed once more because of the same. She's so happy and joyful she feels like her soul is going to escape to dance in front of them a happy dance. No, who is she kidding? _She_ is going to dance herself.

"I can't honestly believe this," Nikolai says, laughing. "I'm sure as hell sleeping right now. You should pin—" he shrieks, though it feels like a weird laugh, when Alina pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stop hurting me."

"No," Alina booms, kissing him again.

"Does this mean you want to marry me?"

"Ask me tomorrow, and I'll see."

"You'll say yes?"

"How couldn't I?" she murmurs, hooking her fingers on the belt loops of his pants, noticing that Nikolai is pulling her shirt up.

And Alina doesn't care, doesn't care at all, because this is what she's been longing for. This is what she's been longing for her whole damn life.


End file.
